


Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned

by rip1009



Series: Requiem for a fool. His Dark Chronicles. [3]
Category: Vampire Chronicles - All Media Types, Vampire Chronicles - Anne Rice
Genre: Boys Will Be Boys, I'm shit with tags, Lestat is a tease, M/M, Mention of dead character, Nicolas loves it, Oral Sex, one poor priest hearing them, sex during confession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 18:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13747218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rip1009/pseuds/rip1009
Summary: Nicolas remembers the good old days or what happened one Sunday morning when Nicolas was forced to confess his sins.Enjoy this one :)





	Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of one anon asking something on Tumblr and my mind running wild with a what if scenario: https://monsieur-nicolas-de-lenfent.tumblr.com/post/170971646113/strangest-place-where-you-have-had-sex
> 
> this one is for The One and Only Lestat ;)
> 
> comments are encouraged :) scratch that, I love comments, show me some love!

There's nothing more pleasant than to be awake from a drunken stupor. I could barely recall the string of events of the previous night. Something about laughing too loud, Lestat singing and my father threatening us with some pretty creative expletives regarding my back's well being in the foreseeable future.

I woke up with a loud bang on my door and my father marching in loudly and with resolve, delivering one strong smack across my back and shouting.

"Wake up, you useless piece of shit! It's Sunday. We have to go to church. Get up and march your ass downstairs", his voice boomed in my head. Nice way to get up after one pleasant night but ever since I got back from Paris and brought eternal shame to my father's good name, this was gentle compared to the full wrath of the big oaf spitting now in my face. I forced myself to get up and using logic against my natural inclination to spite the old fool, I kept my mouth shut, indicating I was alert and hearing the orders. 

Unfortunately, my father never played according to any plan I could think of and the full strength of his heavy, callous hand inundated by left cheek with a full blooming pain. I tasted blood in my mouth, my moronic self had bit the inside of my check to stop a retort. I spit on the floor, retorting back. 

Since he wanted me to come to church with the family, my dear father wouldn't damage my face and have the whole village stare and gossip. It had been enough that last year, I became the talk of the whole town, now Maurice de Lenfent was doing damage control on the family's good name. 

"Clean yourself and come down immediately. Don't make me come back and fetch you!" he yelled again, spit coating his lower lip before, thankfully, getting out of my sight.

I stretched my neck the moment he left the room and steadied myself before glaring at the wash basin. Splashing some cold water to remove the sleep from my eyes, comb my hair, arrange my clothes and Nicolas, darling, carry on with the charade. For the sake of the family's name and reputation. Oh mother, you got away easy from this wretched deal. I picked up a dark coat and looked once more at my reflection in the mirror before I joined my dear, darling family downstairs. 

Let me tell you a little family secret, my beloved brat omitted from his memoirs. My mother had long departed this mortal realm. The woman I tried so hard to remember these days had died giving birth to the second spawn of my father. Childbirth as you may know during those days was a live or die affair. My mother hadn't been lucky the second time my boar of a father knocked her up. She had been a frail thing, a dark beauty with haunting dark eyes, always singing some Italian lullaby from her childhood. Father always boasted he had won her love with his wits and charm. That was the official tale, the real sad sob story was he won her hand when my grandfather lost his meager fortune at the gambling tables. My father won a wife, her dowry and he dumbly thought, he won some sort of entry through old noble blood. Turns out, my mother was a bastard child of some Italian noble and father's hope of marrying high above his station were shadows and dust. You can guess it wasn't a happy marriage. Abuse was the coin of the realm in our house.

As early as I can remember my existence, I recall his beatings. As I grew older, I tried more and more to put myself between his fists and my mother's body. In the end, she was set free of her misery. My father remarried little than a year after her death. His second wife was a woman of this land, round and happy. I didn't resent her and she didn't impose herself in the house. In short, she wasn't a bitch stepmother. She knew how to handle my father. She let him drink and pass out, and the two brats, my step-brothers, simple as they were, were sparred of his lashings. I greeted the woman and picked up a small loaf of bread, nibbling the hard crust. 

"Nicola', you'll break your teeth! Let me get you some fresh bread" she fussed, wiping her hands on her skirts. Her eyes settled on my face, the red imprint on my face hadn't subsided. She sighted and came closer, her eyes surveying the room. She wasn't a dumb one, she knew her husband's temper.

"Take care of yourself. One day, you'll push him too far and he can damage you" I was shocked and angered by her logic. She wasn't stupid but I was arrogant. 

"Let him try. I am his first born, Rose. I can try, he may want to but he can't touch me" I wasn't sure why I was saying that. I welcomed the prospect of being disinherited by my father and left to my own devices, free to pursue my music. She didn't say a word, pushing the plate with freshly baked honey cakes in front me. 

"Eat. You barely had something last night before the Marquis' son came" I grinned forcing her to be shocked. I knew she was suspecting something. I wasn't sure my father was that smart but I was curious if Rose would spill the tale of fornication and add insult to injury on my father's never ending list of fails I had and that he needed to correct. I picked up a cake and chewed the sweet, flavored dough, licking my lips and fingers. Gingerly, I came closer to her and kissed her cheek, ever the affectionate step-son. 

"I'll be outside, waiting for father" she nodded and I left her be. She was a gentle soul but some days, I couldn't give a damn. On some deep level, I didn't want her to be harmed, especially by that boar. The journey to the small church and the whole sermon where a wicked form of punishment for someone who was hungover and had to act sober.

To make matters worse, father imposed a trip to the confession booth. Right. Like a chat with the priest will purify my soul and cleanse me of my sins. I didn't want to be cleansed of my sins and I liked my soul as rotten as I thought it was. I belonged to Hell and I enjoyed hearing the lot of them, telling me, one day, I'll join Lucifer and his hoards. What did I know? 

I stepped inside that claustrophobic cubicle and arranged my coat, clearing my voice as the priest began reciting some prayer and I started to think of something coherent. My head hurt and I had a feeling my brain will soon burst through my skull. Charming sight, right?

"Bless me father, for I have sinned. It's been...well, it's been a while since my last confession and I'm sure, with the amount of sins I have packed over these last months, I'll keep the fine townsfolk waiting" I grinned, waiting to be released with some saucy words on top and delivered into the awaiting arms of my father. 

As the priest began yapping about absolution and how even the worst bastards deserved pardon, I stretched my legs and noticed the door opening and a familiar face coming in. That sly, blonde bastard made his way inside, unobserved and was now straddling my waist, peppering my jaw and neck with bites and kisses. 

Try staying quiet when you have Lestat unleashed on you, ready to help you succumb to pleasure. In order to keep myself quiet, I yanked his neck and forced my mouth on his, lapping, kissing and biting ferociously. I loved the sounds and whimpers coming from him. He was hard and so was I and it felt the purest sin unfolding in front of God and the whole Parrish. It felt good and for once in my life, I was beginning to enjoy confession. 

"Son? Are you still here?" the priest made his presence know and I bit Lestat's lip until I could taste blood too turned on to care about my whereabouts. 

My lord, the Wolfkiller sensed an opportunity and untangled himself from my grasp, licking my lips one last time before settling on his knees in front on me, his hands working on the laces of my breaches. My head hit the wooden wall, trying to keep myself composed. Let's play Lestat. I looked at him, his lust mirroring mine. I swore I would make him pay in a similar fashion but for now, I wanted to see if I could resist this wonderful torture. 

"Father...I had sinful thoughts about a woman" I began as the father goaded me to continue and free my soul from the weight of the sins I carried. Lestat smirked, moistened his lips, his hands already stroking my cock. It was agony and pleasure feeling those long fingers massaging my shaft, pulling the skin, his strokes alternating from soft and sensual to rough pulls, forcing me to bite my lips and not moan in pleasure. 

"She's a goddess, father. Soft, fair skin, golden locks, grey-blue eyes. I want to devour her, father. With each kiss, with each stroke. I want her, father. I want to bury myself deep inside her" I grinned looking at Lestat's flushed face as he looked at me before engulfing my organ in one smooth motion. 

Damn, he was good. I laid my hands on his skull, my fingers digging into the flesh as he sucked and pulled, hollowing his cheeks and repeating the motion. It was tight and wet and I was becoming an incoherent mass, spewing a tale of lust to an old priest. It would make the gentle folks blush as I explained in detail a fucking session with an imaginary girl who wasn't so imaginary, or a girl. I described how I would pound her, relish into her moans and agony, preventing her from climaxing. 

Lestat carried on and kept sucking my dick, licking the rigid shaft with smooth strokes. 

"I can't...no longer" I slurred, my eyes shutting tight as I came, coating Lestat's throat with my essence. The brat was happy, lapping and licking like it was a fine wine and I couldn't love him more. Just as wicked as I was, just as innocent. 

I almost forgot the priest next to us, as I picked Lestat up, kissing those plush lips and tasting my seed on the tip of his mouth. 

The brat poked my ribs, reminding me of our whereabouts. 

"Yes, father. I'm truly lost" I uttered, resolved in living in sins. It was quiet and I was hoping the priest had left the cubicle and resumed to other confessions only to be shocked by the sound of his voice. 

"Nicolas, maybe next time when you come to confession, you leave the young woman be and not bring her with you" I was shocked, Lestat was choking from laughter, my hand trying to keep him quiet. Like I could. 

"Right, father...Hmmm. If you'd be so kind, I will stay, here. A little longer and atone ... for my deeds" I was pushing the envelope but damn if I cared. 

All that mattered to me was having Lestat close to me, enjoying his lovely banter and challenges. Back in those days, these little dares kept our morale up.


End file.
